Set Fire To The Third Bar
by Night's Watch
Summary: Wolves and lions fight in the west, and a dragon seeks revenge in the east. Amidst these battles, kings will fall, hearts will break, and the game must be played. A spirited heiress, a beautiful noblewoman and a runaway wilding will change everything.
1. Making Camp

**A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first chapter of a three way fic. May will be doing Genna's POV. Maddie will have Medea's. And I (CityGirl13) will be portraying Rosalyn. Hope you all like it!**

Chapter 1: Making Camp

**Genna's POV – at the Wall**

Genna raced through the white snow, a trail of blood drops following her as she moved. She was covered in blood, although she was not visibly injured, and her simple clothes had various rips and tears in them. She was usually aware of her surroundings but failed to notice Benjen Stark, who was treading through the snow.

Benjen noticed her and followed, watching her as she stumbled through the snow. Whenever he lost her in his eyesight, he could pick up her trail sue to the small splatters of blood that she was leaving behind her. He tentatively walked up to her as she stumbled and fell to her knees. He knew that she knew he was there and decided against his better judgment to help her up.

"Are you alright?"

Genna didn't reply, instead she pushed him away. As she took his attire in she narrowed her eyes. She didn't trust the ones from the Wall. Even before they decided they'd attack her family and kill them.

Benjen held up his hands in surrender. "I do not mean you harm."

"You're one of them." Genna spat at him.

"One of who?" He asked, slightly confused.

"The ones who wear black. The bringers of death and destruction." She answered, stepping away from him as if he was a demon walking in a human skin.

Benjen nodded slowly before clarifying to her. "I am of the Night's Watch. I am not going to hurt you."

Genna once again looked him over. His words were kind and so were his intentions. That was what made her distrust him.

Benjen made to move, gesturing for Genna to follow him. "Come with me to the Wall. You will be kept safe until the Lord Commander judges you.""

Genna tilted her head to the side slightly. "You're different to the others."

"In what regard?" Benjen inquired.

"Another of your guard would have left me here to die in the cold. Yet you offer me refuge until you deem it otherwise unsuitable." Genna explained to him.

Benjen nodded as he took in her words. "I am not all men, it would seem."

Genna simply nodded as they began to walk towards the Wall, Benjen offering her his coat. "Thank you for your kindness."

**/*0*/**

"This is where we keep the prisoners." One of the guards told Jon, gesturing to Genna.

Jon glanced at Genna, noting the dried blood caked to her body and her ripped attire. "There aren't many."

One of the Night's Watch simply shrugged off his comment. "They usually die because of the cold."

"Bloody wildlings causing trouble." His companion spat, also of the Night's Watch.

Genna looked up when she heard them, her green eyes glaring icy daggers at them. Jon glanced at her, unsure what to make of her as he examined her. Her dark hair was a mess around her face and her dress exposed her pale skin which was tinted a slight blue.

"What's this one called?"

"No idea. We don't ask them." The second guard laughed.

"We just don't tell you. Names have power." Genna told him, her voice low and controlled despite the harsh and freezing wind.

"Wildling freak." The second guard spat at her, none of them noticing how it froze as it hit just in front of where she sat.

"I hope you freeze in your bed tonight." Genna stated dryly, her eyes holding a piercing gaze.

"Maybe you could join me and I wouldn't." The second guard grinned causing Genna to grimace.

"When the seven hells freeze over, I would join you." She snapped at him causing him to abruptly stop grinning.

Jon looked towards Genna. "She's a feisty one."

The first guard looked to Jon. "This one has quite the mouth. We found her swimming in a lake north of the Wall. It's a wonder she didn't freeze."

Jon nodded. "Why don't you just kill her?"

The first guard shrugged. "The commander doesn't want us to."

"Is she valuable?" Jon inquired, not understanding why the commander would want her alive.

"More then they know." Genna smirked, shifting slightly, her long hair falling over her shoulders.

The second guard let out a bark of laughter. "Right."

Genna looked to him and grinned. "Just you wait."

"For what? The seven hells to freeze over?" The second guard asked her, taunting her.

The first guard noted that another of the Night's watch was calling over to the two guards. "The commander wants us. Jon, be careful around her."

"I don't bite." Genna told the two retreating guards.

"Maybe not, but I do not trust you." Jon told her.

Genna stood up and approached him slowly. "Wise words. Who do you trust?"

Jon watched her movement as she neared him. "My family. Myself."

"Right and wrong. One should trust one's self, and one's self only. People are unpredictable, and that can be deadly." Genna told him, her green eyes boring into his darker ones.

"What do you know of trust?" Jon asked her, having heard stories of the wildlings. How they were savages and killers.

"I had a family too, Jon." Genna told him, her eyes haunted by an event he had no information on.

"And what happened to them?" Jon inquired, growing curious to her words.

Genna held her gaze steadily with his. "Do you believe what they said? About how they found me?"

Jon contemplated her words for a moment. "Then how did they find you?"

"They killed my mother first, having followed her to our home, then my father and then my three year old brother. I ran and one of the kinder men grabbed me. His name was Benjen, I believe." She informed him, her eyes' darkening in what he guessed was anger.

"That is my uncle. Why did they kill your family, but not you?" He asked her, slightly confused as to why his uncle had saved her.

"They were part of different scouting parties. I was covered in blood and my clothes were ripped. He thought me to be injured." She told him, moving away from the bars.

"And so they brought you here."

"Yes."

Jon nodded before saying goodbye to her. He could tell that there was something hidden under her façade yet he couldn't tell what it was. She wasn't what he had expected a wildling to be. She wasn't savage and didn't strike him as a killer.

**Medea's POV – somewhere near Bitterbridge**

"Why did you even agree to join this Rainbow Guard in the first place?" Medea Caron questioned of her older brother as they rode south with their entourage. Since Renly had fled the capital, he had called all those loyal to him, and despite Medea's inhibitions, Bryce had answered the call. Renly had been pleased that the young Lord of the Marches had joined him, so he had immediately named Bryce as a member of his Rainbow Guard. Medea thought the name and idea was quite silly, just a cheap imitation of the Kingsguard, but she would never tell her brother that.

"Loras is a good friend," Bryce responded with a shrug, referring to the Lord Commander of the Rainbow Guard. Medea examined him, her _noble_ older brother. He looked like her, with his dark hair and amber eyes. He was handsome, yet at twenty-five he remained unmarried. As he and Medea were the only surviving members of their family, she often wondered why he did not take a wife.

"So you do whatever he does?" Medea inquired with a mischievous grin. She was eight years her brother's junior, barely seventeen, yet she still saw fit to question him. As her parents had died a decade past, she had grown up a young lady still, but was a little unruly. None had managed to curb her tongue and there was a streak of mischief that the years had not taken away from her. Bryce himself had been barely fifteen upon becoming lord of Nightsong.

"No." Bryce's reply was rather curt, and he frowned at his younger sister. "He asked me to be a part of it as Renly wanted me to be a part of it."

"And now you are to be stuck wearing orange." Medea smirked at the thought. Bryce the Orange…it was hilarious, really, although she knew better than to laugh in front of him. Jokes were one thing, but Bryce would not take kindly to it. When they reached Renly's camp, she wouldn't be able to show amusement of any kind at the notion, as it would likely be considered rude.

"We may find you a husband as well," Bryce informed Medea, knowing that it would rile her just as her jest had irritated him. Medea was the younger sibling and she had no wish to marry before Bryce did. The very thought made her visibly grimace.

"Like who?" Medea demanded, her tone becoming sharp, "If it is anyone older than you, the answer is automatically a no."

In reality, Medea knew she had very little choice of who she would marry. With their parents dead, Bryce would be the one who people came to if they wanted Medea's hand – and she didn't know exactly how much influence she could exert over her older brother.

"I don't know who," Bryce retorted.

"I've heard rumours that life at Renly's camp is very entertaining," Medea remarked with a sly smile, easily turning the topic away from a possible marriage. Of course, she was certainly old enough to wed by now, but she rarely ventured away from Nightsong. The only reason she was headed to Bitterbridge with her brother was because Bryce did not feel she was safe in Nightsong, preferring to keep her by his side.

Bryce examined her critically. "How so?"

"When they're not fighting someone, they hold tourneys and feasts and the like," Medea informed him, relaying what she had heard from several of the ladies who had been gossiping non-stop on their journey. "And apparently, there is a lot of bedding going on."

Bryce stiffened. This was not the sort of talk that was supposed to come from the mouth of a young lady.

"Well if anyone touches you the wrong way, they will lose their hands."

"Relax, Bryce." Medea sounded more amused than anything, but Bryce knew what men could be like. If they so much as looked at his little sister the wrong way, they would have to face his wrath. "I know how to look out for myself, I hardly need a guard dog."

This prompted a chuckle from Bryce. Medea always had a way of finding humour in situations that he may take too seriously.

"What about you?" Medea inquired, quickly turning the tables on her older brothers. "Any women in the south for dear Bryce?"

He shook his head vigorously. "I have no desire to marry."

"I have heard the rumours about Renly," Medea told her older brother delightedly, her amber eyes flashing with wickedness, "Perhaps you're like him."

Bryce offered her a scathing glance. "I doubt that."

"Perhaps so, Bryce the Orange," Medea retaliated in a teasing tone that told her older brother she took the situation very lightly indeed. "I still don't doubt the south will be much fun indeed."

**/*0*/**

Medea examined her surroundings with intent curiosity as she rode into Renly's camp with her brother, and she found that the rumours she had heard were not far wrong. It would seem that Renly, who was of a similar age to Bryce, was a frivolous young man and when they were not fighting, they were feasting and bedding and dancing. She watched with rapt fascination as they passed a fire-eater.

"Pay them no mind," Bryce instructed her, seeming indifferent as his sister observed the colourful camp with wide eyes. He climbed off his horse as a stable boy quickly came to gather the reins, and Medea slid off also. She followed her older brother over to the pavilion under which a large group of finely dressed men and women were feasting and gossiping at a long table.

"Bryce Caron!"

A dark-haired young man, between Medea and Bryce in age, rose from the table and crossed over to envelop Bryce in a manly embrace. He turned his attention to Medea and immediately took her hand, kissing the back of it.

"This must be the lovely sister I have heard so much about. Medea, is it?"

Considering he had heard so much about her, he should at least know what her name was. Despite this, Medea hoisted a smile across her features, dropping into a respectful curtsy and averting her eyes in a show of demureness.

"Your grace."

At the table, several ladies had put their heads together and were talking in whispers, glancing over at Medea every now and again. Their sudden attention made her feel slightly uncomfortable and alienated. She wondered whether she would eventually fit into their circle, or whether she was condemned to be an outsider.

"You must be tired from your venture," Renly said, although he was speaking more to Bryce than Medea now, "Come, sit at the table and have something to eat. You can meet your fellows of the Rainbow Guard as well."

**Rosalyn's POV – Bitterbridge **

Rosalyn Tarth crested the hill, flanked by ten of her House guards, at the insistence of her father of course. She would have been perfectly happy to ride on her own, but he was forever wanting to make sure she was safe. And unlike her elder sister, Brienne, Rosalyn had no real argument to put up considering she was no soldier. So she endured the forced company as she traveled from her home island to Bitterbridge, and the camp of King Renly Baratheon, first of his name. Brienne had left long ago to answer Renly's call to arms, but it had taken the subsequent weeks that followed for Rosalyn to convince her father that she should be permitted leave as well. He could hardly blame her for wanting to get out though, all her life long she had not left the island of Tarth, and she wanted to badly to see the world! But her father was so intent on keeping her close to home.

One would think that he was worried more about Brienne than her, what with her elder sister being the unconventional one. Brienne was a lovely soul, but in all honest truth she was not what the world wanted in a young woman. She was not fair to look at, save her eyes, and she also held a dream of becoming a knight. But she was still their father's heir, so that saved her from at least some maliciousness, but it couldn't save her from gossip. Men came to Tarth to see the sisters, Brienne was heiress to the island and all its wealth, but Rosalyn was the pretty one. She hated being called that, her eyes were the same as her sister's and their mother's set into a delicately featured face, while her hair was a golden blonde not unlike that of a Lannister's. But it seemed so vapid, Brienne was ugly and she pretty, therefore other people automatically took more of a liking to her. She hated it. Hated the way it was done, and how people didn't even know they were doing it. Perhaps if it was conscious it might be easier, but it wasn't, they didn't think as they judged on appearance.

Perhaps that was the reason why Rosalyn had become so unruly as a child, wanting to defy the stereotype of a girl such as her. Running around the island of Tarth, climbing trees, swimming in river and sea alike no matter the weather; but she had never let Brienne teach her to fight, despite her sister's attempts. It drove her father slightly mad she thought, he probably wished his daughters could be solely one thing, as opposed to split like Rosalyn and Brienne were. Unfortunately all her escapes hadn't spared her a 'proper education' in being a 'lady'. Of course this didn't mean that she _kept _to her teachings when alone, Brienne loved to point out how she was lucky her suitors didn't see her going about her normal activities, she'd scare them off herself with that apparently.

"Are we expected my lady?" one of her guards asked.

"I should think so," she replied; not turning away from her study of the camp, "Father sent a raven, perhaps we should ride down. They must be busy, we cannot simply assume that there will be a welcoming party."

She urged her horse forwards, and of course the guards followed her, muttering amongst themselves.

**/*0*/**

Meanwhile in the camp Brienne was pacing as she stood guard outside Renly's tent while the King took lunch with some friends. Her impatience was running high, where was she? Then something caught her eye, people cresting the hill and stopping to look down at the camp. She couldn't be sure at this distance, but she was almost positive that the banners they carried were her own. She quickly ducked into the tent, only four people sat to lunch, Renly was joking with his knights Loras and Bryce, while Bryce's sister ate in awkward silence. They all looked up when she entered, and she went to her knee before Renly.

"Your grace, might I be momentarily excused?" she inquired, "My sister has just arrived and I wish to greet her."

Loras Tyrell arched an eyebrow, curiosity written all over his handsome face, "I should like to meet this sister of yours, perhaps we should all go as a welcome party?"

"Your grace?" she looked to Renly to see what he thought.

The King stood, "I think it is a wonderful idea."

Bryce the orange followed his King's lead, gesturing for his sister to do the same. The young girl looked so out of place, Brienne felt sorry for her.

"She is of an age with you Lady Medea," she said as they left the tent, "Perhaps a year younger."

The young lady smiled graciously, "It will be nice to have someone of my own age Lady Brienne."

Loras and Bryce took up the rear of the small party, while Medea drifted in the middle. Renly gestured for Brienne to talk beside him.

"What is she like, this sister of yours?" he questioned, "I don't believe you've mentioned her all that much."

She blushed a little to have him paying attention to her, "She is very different to me your grace."

"Is she fair?" Loras Tyrell popped into the conversation.

The comment immediately after she'd stated they were different didn't bother her, she was used to it from the likes of him. But his interest made her frown a little, automatic reflex really.

"Yes, and she'd only sixteen."

Renly arched an eyebrow as he turned to look at his most loyal knight, "Curious dear friend?"

Loras smirked, "Perhaps. Attractive young women to tend to interest most."

"Some of us are preoccupied with other things," Bryce put in with a shake of his head.

Renly laughed, but he and Loras shared a glance that she couldn't decipher, she could still see the curiosity on Loras' face though.

"Sixteen," she reminded firmly.

He arched an eyebrow, "And?"

However at that moment Rosalyn had ridden into the camp and spotted her sister. She dismounted and tossed the reins carelessly to one of her guards, they set their mouths firmly, but knew better than to try and call her back. She marched over to the group approaching her and went right up to her sister.

"There you are! What took you so long?" she demanded.

Brienne looked down from her height, already being taller than many men, and Rosalyn was rather short, "Still an impertinent brat I see."

"Still playing at the night?" Rosalyn shot back.

Medea Caron blinked several times in shock, not quite sure what to make of this exchange between siblings.

"How many dresses did you bring? Let me guess, the entire wardrobe?" Brienne questioned.

"Do you own a dress?" Rosalyn retorted.

Bryce Caron didn't' share his sibling's shock, he was gazing at the exchange with more amusement than anything else. Loras Tyrell was struggling hard not to laugh, eyeing Rosalyn up with a small smile.

"Pampered princess," Brienne said haughtily.

"Great ox," Rosalyn replied with force in her voice.

The sisters stared at each other for a moment, matching eyes remaining void of expression. But then it was too much. They both burst into laughter and embraced warmly, the bystanders looked rather unsure, as if they weren't positive what had just happened.

"That was quite a show ladies," Loras congratulated; applauding them.

Rosalyn remembered whom she was standing before, and curtsied low for Renly, "My King."

Renly still had a slightly shocked expression on his face, but smiled warmly none the less," Welcome Lady Rosalyn."

Brienne made the ensuing introductions, gesturing at Rosalyn first, "This is my younger sister, Rosalyn Tarth," she then began indicating everyone in turn, "His grace, King Renly Baratheon, the first of his name. Ser Bryce Caron, of the Rainbow Guard. Ser Loras Tyrell, the Lord Commander. And Lady Medea Caron, she's only a year your senior sister."

"A pleasure to meet you Lady Rosalyn," Medea said politely.

Loras Tyrell stepped forward and gallantly bowed over her hand, raising it to his lips and look up at her, "She is indeed fair."

Rosalyn blushed, "It's good to meet you all, Brienne's letters were nice, but to meet you in person is a fine thing."

"Tyrell…" Brienne said warningly; noting the behavior of the Knight of the Flowers.

"If you will all excuse me, I promised my lady wife a ride today," Renly bowed to them all and then took his leave, Brienne staring after him.

Medea smiled at Rosalyn, "It is good to have someone my own age in the camp at last!"

Loras was smirking at Rosalyn and giving her an appreciative eye, but she did not notice this as she returned Medea's grin , "It's a relief to have someone my own age in general! Everyone back home it either older, younger, of simple visiting. Have you been married long?"

"Pardon me?" Medea looked rather puzzled.

"I thought…" Rosalyn glanced between her and Bryce.

"Oh, I see!" Medea laughed and looked rather amused, "No, Bryce is not my husband. He's my older brother."

Bryce himself had begun laughing at Rosalyn's little muck up.

"Well Brienne did not state Medea's relation to Bryce," Loras defended, "Although if you will notice carefully, they both have the same amber eyes." He turned to Rosalyn and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "And you do have lovely eyes yourself."

Rosalyn flushed a little from embarrassment at her mix-up, and at Loras' rather forward touch, "I'm sorry! I just assumed…"

"I take it you're not married Rosalyn?" Medea half stated, half enquired.

"Of course she isn't," Loras answered on her behalf; flashing a charming smile her way.

"She's not," Brienne agreed before Rosalyn had the chance, sending Loras a pointed look, "I'm sure you won't mind releasing my sister's hand."

Rosalyn dropped his as if it were a hot coal, having not realised until then that he hadn't let go. He chuckled, and did not move any further away. Thankfully she was saved from having to recover the conversation when a soldier in Baratheon uniform rushed up to her sister.

"Brienne, you're wanted," he said.

Brienne sighed and looked over at Rosalyn, "Will you be okay? I'll talk with you this evening and we can catch up."

"Of course," Rosalyn agreed with a nod.

"I should probably go and sort out the drunkards throwing knives," Bryce said; casting a frown at said men, "Rosalyn, I trust you don't mind sharing a tent with Medea?"

"I don't mind," Rosalyn assured; turning to Medea, "Do you?"

"Of course not!" Medea exclaimed; smiling.

Bryce gave a curt nod and walked away with Brienne.

"You are very beautiful indeed," Loras noted; still eyeing Rosalyn.

Rosalyn fiddled with her hair and let her gaze dart around with no focus, "Umm, thank you."

"Don't mind Loras," Medea said with a laugh, "He's quite the flirt."

"I never flirted with you young Medea," Loras put in.

The girl smirked, "That's because if you did, Bryce would nail your manhood to a tree."

Rosalyn managed a grin, "I don't doubt that Brienne is capable of the same."

"There's nothing _quite_ like an overprotective brother," Medea agreed with a laugh.

Loras glanced at Rosalyn, "I could take up that role."

She arched an eyebrow, "Be my overprotective brother? Alright, you're on."

"I won't let a man touch you," he vowed; then traced his fingers up her arm, "Well no one but me."

Rosalyn took a panicked step back and her heart began racing, she had to remind herself that this was not that man, this was a different place. That was far behind her, she should just let it go.

"Loras, leave her be, she's only just arrived, "Medea chided; offering Rosalyn an apologetic smile, "He thinks he's a charmer."

Rosalyn pushed the memory away and let a grin come on her face, "I think I picked that up, rather confident isn't he?"

"I _am_ still here you know," Loras grumbled.

"Perhaps you shouldn't be," Medea retorted, "Don't you have things to be doing?"

Loras glared at her, Rosalyn patted his arm in a slightly mocking manner, "Aww, did we offend you?"

"Hardly," he scoffed, "If would take more than you two to offend _me_."

"We'll have to try harder then!" Rosalyn vowed.

"You see Rosalyn, his ego is so large that it would need more than just a poke," Medea informed.

"It is not," Loras defended.

Rosalyn went up on tip toe and waved a hand in above his head, "The very air feels thicker."

He caught her wrist," Now, now. It isn't ladylike to tease you know."

"And who says being ladylike is a constant requirement?" Rosalyn challenged.

Loras opened his mouth in mock horror, "I would think that it should be."

Medea rolled her eyes and took Rosalyn's arm, "Perhaps we should escape his arrogance while we can..."

Rosalyn grinned at Loras, "Never let appearances fool you, let me give you a hint about what I mean. Brienne's the knight, but she was the better behaved and less errant child." Then she linked her arm happily with Medea's.

"We shall see you later, Loras. Unless you are too busy preening," Medea fare welled.

"But...what..." Loras seemed to have lost the conversation a few sentences back.

Rosalyn looked back over her shoulder and flashed him a smile, "Farewell honorary brother."


	2. Wards

Chapter 2: Wards

* * *

><p><strong>AN: A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed! We hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

><p><strong>Genna's POV – The Wall<strong>

Genna watches as the guard on duty paces around. She moved her dress so it exposed more of her cleavage and stood up, slowly and sensuously walking towards the bars that confined her. She placed her hands on the bars, feeling the ice melt to water under her warm touch. The guard simply watched her.

"Hey." Genna whispered, her voice low and husky.

"What do you want, wildling? The guard asked her, paying her no second glance.

"I'm a little cold. Think you could help me warm up?" She asked him, making her eyes appear as innocent as possible.

"In what manner?" The guard inquired, watching her.

Genna smirked at him. "In what manner do you think?"

The guard eyed her before making an internal decision. "I don't so prisoners."

"Really?" Genna asked, moving closer to him, her dress slipping and exposing her breasts more to him.

"Listen, wildling." The guard hissed, walking over to her. "I'm not sure what your little game is, but you lose."

Genna reached out and grabbed the guards throat, smirking as he struggled against her vice like grip. She used the water and ice that was on her hand, letting it seep through his skin and turn his bones to ice. She tightens her grip and heard the cracking of his bones before he crumpled to the ground.

"Actually, I win."

Genna grabbed the guards' keys and reached around, unlocking the cell door. She slipped out and snuck to the stables, taking a horse and quickly mounting it. She pulled a cloak over her body to cover herself before she nudged the horse forward.

* * *

><p><strong>Medea's POV – Bitterbridge <strong>

Medea trudged over to the other wearing a red dress with gold accents, but her mood was dampened by the bruise on her cheek that she was attempting to hide using her dark hair. The others were already seated, sitting laughing with Renly. Brienne milled around uncertainly, looking uncomfortable in her own skin.

Rosalyn walked over to Medea in a blue dress with silver accents. She seemed rather excited about all of this, an attitude Medea wished that she could share. "Hey!"

Medea offered her a rather strained smile. "Hi."

Brienne was looking at Renly, before she sighed and glanced away, something Medea did not miss. Loras was laughing at a joke Bryce was telling, and Renly was looking out at the feast with a grin.

"Are you not going to join us, Brienne?" Bryce called.

"Oh…" Brienne sat rather awkwardly.

Rosalyn noticed Medea looking at her feet. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Medea made to tuck back her hair and then remembered the bruise on her cheek and thought the better of it. "How are you finding Renly's camp?"

Rosalyn noticed the bruise and reached out to Medea, frowning. "What's that?"

"Oh, nothing," Medea replied flippantly, taking a step back. "I just fell out of bed last night."

"Ladies!" Renly called across to them, as Loras glanced approvingly at Rosalyn, "Join us!"

"In a moment, your grace!" Rosalyn turned back to Medea, concern coming over her face as she examined her new friend. "Are you sure that's all that happened?"

"It is nothing for you to be concerned about," Medea replied in a murmur, noticing that her brother was watching her carefully. "Honestly, it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Rosalyn persisted, glancing quickly across at Bryce.

"Come on, ladies," Renly exclaimed before Medea had the chance to reply, causing Bryce to chuckle, "We don't bite."

Rosalyn still looked concerned, but linked arms with Medea and walked forward. The dark-haired girl wished that Rosalyn could care a bit less. She was getting a bit too close to the truth and it scared Medea.

"Sister, would you like some wine?" Bryce inquired as she sat down, drawing her from her thoughts.

"Just a little, please," Medea responded.

Rosalyn hesitated upon noticing the only seat left was beside Loras. He patted the seat with a smile, and she sat down cautiously. Renly had returned to joking with his men and Bryce was laughing loudly, clearing a little drunk. Medea was sipping politely at her wine, wishing she could be somewhere else.

Brienne leaned back in her seat, watching Loras. "Be nice to my sister."

Loras grinned. "I'm always nice."

Renly rolled his eyes. "You flirt too much, friend."

Loras laughed easily, glancing across at his king. "Does it offend your grace?"

Renly smirked and draped an arm around Margaery, who smiled and sipped at her wine in a demure fashion. "No."

"So sister," Brienne turned to glance at Rosalyn. "How do you like it here?"

"It's nice," Rosalyn replied with a smile. "Nearly everyone is great to be around."

Bryce couldn't help but grin proudly. "We are indeed a jolly bunch."

Loras clinked his goblet with Bryce's. "I'll drink to that!"

Brienne watched them both with a rather amused expression. "You two will drink to anything."

Renly laughed. "Very true, Brienne!"

Rosalyn turned to Medea to whisper. "They are the few not great to be around."

"Agreed…" Medea replied, although her heart wasn't in it. She simply swilled the contents of her goblet.

"Are you talking about us, ladies?" Renly asked with mock horror as Margaery excused herself for the night.

"No," Rosalyn responded with an innocent smile, prompting Brienne to roll her eyes and Bryce to laugh, taking another sip of his wine. Medea glanced across at her older brother with a frown.

"I think you've had a little too much, Bryce."

"Are you my mother now?" he retaliated.

"Gods know you need her to be," Renly drawled, glancing across at the knight, "Someone has to take on the job."

Loras ruffled Bryce's dark hair. "I can be his mother."

"I'm six years older than you!" Bryce protested hotly.

"With you boys, it's hard to tell," Rosalyn admitted, "I think that Medea and I are the oldest. And you of course, sister."

Renly looked scandalized and Bryce puffed out his chest in pride. "I am the oldest."

"Perhaps," Rosalyn conceded as Medea rolled her eyes, "But ladies are always more mentally advanced than men. So we are probably of an age."

"I doubt that, Lady Rosalyn," Medea responded, a small smile crossing her lips, "We are definitely older."

"A shame in a few ways," Rosalyn mocked a heavy sigh. "That probably makes us older than most men in the camp. I don't think I could be with a man younger than I…"

Renly glanced across at Loras, who fell silent, causing Medea to smirk and Rosalyn to look completely baffled.

"Huh?"

Brienne laughed. "They are insinuating something with you and Loras."

Renly spluttered with laughter and Rosalyn threw Loras a puzzled look, causing him to shrug.

"I don't understand any more than you do."

"He's too much of a flirt to be serious anyway, aren't you Tyrell?" Brienne teased as Bryce laughed with Renly and Medea sipped at her wine and refilled her goblet

"I'm not the only one!" Loras nudged Bryce, who threw him a scathing look.

"Excuse me!"

Rosalyn glanced between them with an amused expression. "You're both going to remain unmarried bachelors, I swear."

"Don't say that," Medea pleaded, "Then I would have to inherit the Marches…"

Bryce glanced at her sharply. "What's wrong with the Marches?"

"Nothing," Medea said hastily.

"Don't worry, I'd come visit you if no one else would," Rosalyn told her, patting her hand in a comforting gesture.

"I'd come with Rosalyn," Loras insisted.

Rosalyn arched an eyebrow. "You'd be with me?"

"But of course." He grinned deviously.

"In what context?" Rosalyn asked carefully, as Medea rolled her eyes, Brienne frowned and Renly and Bryce laughed, the latter so hard that he was almost crying. Medea stood up with a resigned expression.

"Bryce, you've had enough to drink. Bedtime, I think."

Renly smiled teasingly. "Yes, Bryce, go with your mother."

"I'll take him." Brienne stood, walking over to Bryce. "I feel like leaving anyway, I'm tired. If I may withdraw your grace?"

"Of course." Renly inclined his head.

"You truly don't mind?" Medea inquired, feeling a little disappointed as her excuse to take her leave failed.

Brienne shook her head, walking over to Bryce and helping him to his feet. "Come on."

"You didn't answer the question," Rosalyn informed Loras as Brienne left with Bryce and Medea took her seat once more.

"In whatever manner you please," Loras responded mischievously, waggling his eyebrows.

Rosalyn couldn't help but grin. "Still honorary brother then."

Renly burst out laughing, clapping his hands delightedly. "You were foiled, dear friend."

Medea smiled faintly, and Loras mocked hurt, pressing his hand over his heart in a very dramatic fashion.

"Oh, ouch…"

Rosalyn smiled sweetly. "Well, you offered to take on the position, don't you recall?"

"Well, let's let them work out their little lover's quarrel." Renly turned his attention upon the dark-haired girl, who was unusually quiet. "How are you, Lady Medea?"

"I am well thank, your grace," Medea responded politely, "And yourself?"

"Very well!" Renly responded jovially with a smile. "Enjoying the feast?"

"Yes, indeed." Medea offered him a small smile in return. "I find life at the camp very entertaining."

Medea nodded. "How fares your lady wife?"

"Very well," Renly inclined his head, "She is tired, however, and wanted to rest tonight."

Medea smiled. "Of course."

"LOVER'S QUARREL?" Rosalyn repeated indignantly, still aghast about the earlier comment, and Loras looked equally as stunned. "Wait wait, back up, what lover's quarrel? Who are the lovers here?"

Loras grinned. "I do believe he means you and I."

"You and I?" Rosalyn smiled teasingly. "Sorry, not into incest."

Loras smirked. "Of _course_ not."

Rosalyn's smile quickly morphed into a frown. "If I didn't know you better, I would say you were insinuating something…"

"Good thing you know me better," Loras replied.

"So you are insinuating?" Rosalyn persisted.

Loras nodded. "Definitely."

Rosalyn patted his arm as Renly tried to hold in laughter. "Well, sorry to disappoint."

"Oh dear, Loras," Medea glanced over at him, "It would appear your so-called charms have failed."

"I think this is a first for him," Renly admitted as Rosalyn grinned and Loras mocked a pout. "You have my congratulations, Rosalyn!"

Rosalyn waved a hand. "He'll get over it."

"I don't know about that…" Medea feigned deep thought.

"I agree with Medea," Renly smiled.

Rosalyn glanced at them both. "He'll be fine."

Renly couldn't help but laugh. "Did Loras offend you before?"

"I never offend anyone," Loras insisted.

"Yes, he did." Rosalyn turned to smirk at Loras, who looked a bit wary. "You opened your mouth."

Renly roared with laughter, but Loras remained silent, glaring at Rosalyn. She grinned and reached over to ruffle his hair.

"Aww, my turn to offend?"

"By all means continue, Rosalyn," Renly looked amused as he glanced between the pair. "About time someone did!"

Rosalyn grinned. "Oh I shall."

"Why do you do this to me?" Loras mocked horror. "Am I really so terrible?"

"For fun." Rosalyn gave a neat shrug. "You're amusing?"

"May I take my leave your grace?" Medea inquired, standing up. The bruise on her cheek was aching. "I find myself tired."

"You alright?" Rosalyn was concerned as she glanced at her friend again. "Want me to come with you?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to interrupt you having a good time, Rosalyn." Medea waved her hand dismissively. "It's fine."

"Are you sure?" Rosalyn persisted.

Medea nodded. "Thank you for your concern."

Renly inclined his head, giving his consent for her to leave. "Of course, my lady."

Medea waved and walked away. "I'll see you all tomorrow."

* * *

><p><strong>Genna's POV – somewhere near Riverrun<strong>

Jon sat under a tree a way away from the Stark camp. Robb stood beside him, an amused grin on his face as he watched Jon continue to sharpen his sword. He had been sharpening it for hours and Robb was beginning to grow tired of watching Jon do so.

"Isn't it sharp enough already?"

Genna was walking in the forest near where the two brothers sat. She was unaware of their presence and they were unaware of her. It had taken her a few days to travel this far south yet she remained awake and alert. She sported a quiver strapped to her back, bow in hand, and two daggers, one on each hip.

"What, are you worried I'll cut you into ribbons if we spar?" Jon grinned.

Robb returned his facial expression. "Never."

Jon let out a heavy sigh. "I'm on first watch tonight."

Robb nodded, feeling sorry for Jon, but only a little. The two boys still hadn't noticed Genna, nor had she noticed them. She ran a hand through her long dark locks whilst Jon sat down against a tree, watching the seemingly quiet forest.

"I'm glad you came back, Jon." Robb told his half-brother, smiling.

Genna fastened her bow to her back before climbing up a tree, not caring that strips of bark tore off as she did. Before she leant in the fork of one of the trees. She wasn't aware of anyone being around to threaten her. Jon, having heard the bark being stripped from the tree, stood up in alarm.

Jon stood up and looked around. "I thought I heard something."

"Like what?" Robb asked, looking at him in confusion.

"I don't know. Maybe it was just an animal." Jon sighed, sitting back down against the tree.

A deer casually walked past the three people, catching Genna's eye. She readied her bow and strung an arrow, aiming for the deer, which was half way between her and the two boys. She strung it back further and took aim, still failing to have noticed Robb and Jon.

Jon noticed the deer and gestured to it. "See? You should go to bed, Robb."

Robb nodded while yawning, unable to hold it in. "Maybe that's a good idea."

Genna released the arrow, smirking as it hit the dear in the eye, killing it instantly. She watches as its motionless body dropped to the floor before she noticed the two boys and climbed further up the tree, not wanting to be seen by anyone.

Jon stood up in alarm upon noticing the dead dear with an arrow in its eye. "What was that?"

"Someone shot the deer." Robb answered bluntly.

"From where?" Jon asked before turning around in a circle, having heard Genna. "Who's out there?"

Genna recognized his voice but chose to stay hidden in the tree.

"Jon, don't go out there. You could get shot next." Robb berated Jon as he tentatively walked towards the dead deer.

Genna decided to reveal herself and slipped from the tree, careful not to land with any noise. She ended up standing behind the two boys who had no clue she was behind them. They were too busy wondering who had shot the deer down.

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" Jon asked Robb exasperatedly.

"Two young men like you shouldn't be out alone." Genna remarked, no emotion on her face or in her voice.

Robb whirled around to face her. "Who are you?"

"I could ask you the same question." Genna retorted.

"I'm Robb Stark, King in the North. I don't have to answer to you." Robb snapped at her remark.

Jon looked at the girl in front of him carefully. "Genna?"

Genna looked towards him. "Hello, Jon."

"Why are you here?" Jon asked her; curious as to why she would be so far south of the Wall.

"I didn't intend to come here." Genna told him.

"Where did you intend to go?" Jon inquired.

"Anywhere apart from the Wall." Genna answered simply.

Jon nodded. "Are you going to stay here?"

Genna looked towards Robb, uncertain. "I don't think your king would welcome me here."

"I welcome any who would join our cause, but how can I trust you won't betray us?" Robb asked her.

"You can't." Genna stated, she knew there were little to no people you could trust in a world that was as torn as this one was.

"She's just a wildling, Robb." Jon remarked.

"If she doesn't cause any damage she can stay." Robb told them both.

"I won't cause any damage." Genna assured him with a smirk.

* * *

><p><strong>Rosalyn's POV – Bitterbridge <strong>

Muttering and footsteps could be heard through the canvas of the tent that she shared with Medea, but that had been going on all afternoon. Rosalyn laid back on her camp bed and looked up at the cloth ceiling, making idle patterns with her hands. She cast a glance to the side at Medea, the older girl was staring contemplatively at some far off point in the distance, no doubt lost in her thoughts. Rosalyn propped herself up on her side, blonde hair falling over her shoulder, clicking her fingers to draw Medea's mind back to the tent.

"What do you suppose is going on?" she inquired.

"There are rumours that a Stark entourage entered the camp," Medea replied; focusing her amber eyes on Rosalyn.

"The Starks, it's strange to hear of them being so close. Normally they are shut away in the North beyond the Neck." Rosalyn stretched herself lazily, she hadn't left the tent for most of the day, and her muscles were feeling it, "They are probably discussing an alliance of sorts, I wonder how Renly will take it with the Lord claiming kingship over the North."

Medea sat up and grinned mischievously, "There are rumours of the Young Wolf too."

Rosalyn raised her eyebrows, "Oh? What kind of rumours?"

"They say he's very good-looking," Medea smirked, "Although you know how rumours are."

Rosalyn winked, "Good looking huh? Better than the rather handsome men you can occasionally find here?"

"Such as myself?" Loras Tyrell's voice sounded from where he was now leaning casually against the pole holding up the entrance to the girl's tent, "Don't let me disturb your gossip, ladies."

Rosalyn jumped and hurriedly straightened her skirts, "Loras! You might have announced yourself."

"I am announcing myself now," he retorted, "Renly wishes to speak with you two."

"Why is this?" Medea questioned; standing none the less.

"I am not sure," Loras replied, "But you'd best come along now."

"Anyone, anyone else could have been sent," Rosalyn muttered under her breath as she stood, blushing a little.

Loras cast a glance at her over his shoulder as he led them from the tent, "Handsome men, are we, Rosalyn?"

"Huh," she scoffed, "What makes you think that you were included in that?"

"Come on, lovebirds, don't take all day," Medea called back breezily; having already moved ahead.

"LOVEBIRDS!" Rosalyn exclaimed incredulously.

While Loras simultaneously scoffed and smirked, Medea merely smirked.

She glowered, "I am going to kill you in your sleep Medea."

"You wouldn't dare," the other girl challenged as they entered Renly's tent.

"I would," Rosalyn assured, "You need limits girl."

"Ladies, glad you could join us," Renly said, "What kept you?"

"Loras," Rosalyn replied instantly and without thought.

"It wasn't me it was them," Loras defended.

"I'm not sure who I am to believe, but no matter." Renly chuckled softly, before presenting his guest, "Ladies, this is Lady Catelyn Stark."

"Lady Stark," Rosalyn dropped into a curtsy in time with Medea, so that was who the strange auburn haired woman was, Rosalyn had heard a great deal about Catelyn Tully and her escapades.

"Hello girls," Lady Stark smiled at them, "You two must be Medea Caron and Rosalyn Tarth."

"Yes, my lady," Medea replied for the both of them.

"As you are both no doubt aware, Lady Starks son Robb has a host of considerable size marching south," Renly said seriously, "A host that would be a good ally."

"Undoubtedly your grace," Rosalyn replied; wondering where Renly was going with this.

"As such, we came to an... arrangement, but I would require consent from the both of you," he sent a sidelong glance at his guest, "Perhaps you would like to explain my lady?"

Catelyn Stark stepped forwards, "I was thinking perhaps two lovely young girls such as yourself would make fine wards. You could accompany me to the Stark camp, where you be treating as befits your status."

"What do you say?" Renly inquired; looking between them both.

"Umm..." Rosalyn was hesitant, but overall that was just nerves, she looked over at her friend, "I can see no issue, Medea?"

"I accept, your grace," Medea said firmly, "I think it would seem a wise idea, as opposed to warfare."

Renly clapped his hands together, "I am glad you both agree, you will be missed here no doubt, the Northerners have made some lucky new companions."

"Thank you your grace," Rosalyn laughed; some things about Renly would just never change.

She looked at her friend again, noting that worry was flickering in her eyes, worry that Medea tried to hide as always. No doubt she was apprehensive about going North, and she was probably also worried about how her brother would take it. Rosalyn wasn't quite sure what to make of Bryce Caron from the little she knew him, he seemed nice enough she supposed.

"Of course, once the war is done, you two will be free to go wherever you wish," Catelyn's words brought Rosalyn back from her thoughts.

She nodded, "When would we leave?"

"I would be honoured if you remained the night lady Stark, rest yourself," Renly said quickly.

"Thank you, Lord Renly," Lady Stark replied with a grateful smile that he returned, then she turned back to Rosalyn and Medea, "I believe we leave tomorrow, girls."

"Alright," Rosalyn looked to Renly and dropped a curtsy, "Might I have leave to find my sister your grace?"

He waved his hand dismissively, "Of course, Loras, help her?"

She frowned, help from Loras Tyrell was _not_ something she was after. Despite the fact that he was undoubtedly one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, and the fact that he seemed to flirt on occasion in a way that made her unsure as to whether he was joking or sincere, she did not miss the way he and Renly acted together. Developing feelings for someone clearly already in love was always going to be a bad idea, she knew that much from common sense, and from seeing how her sister adored Renly himself. That would be quite the god's joke, each maiden of Tarth in love with a man, those men in love with each other.

"I think both of your siblings are down sparring, actually," Loras said, "Shall I take you too, Medea?"

"That may be a good idea," Medea agreed.

"See you tonight ladies!" Renly called as they left, "We shall have a feast in honour of you both."

"Thank you your grace," Rosalyn replied as they left the tent; linking her arm through Medea's and whispering softly, "I am so glad you are not leaving me with him."

Medea laughed as they walked down to the practice fields, "Oh, anytime."

"Now now ladies, no whispering," Loras chided.

"Well we don't want others hearing," Rosalyn shot back, "That's kind of the point of it."

"It's terribly rude!" Loras exclaimed.

Bryce walked over to them, "And you would know all about rude, wouldn't you, Tyrell?"

"He's the expert on it," Rosalyn agreed; smirking.

Brienne laughed as she also made her way up to them, "Tyrell, just how badly did you offend my sister this time?"

"I haven't done anything!" Loras protested.

"Of course not..." Bryce sounded skeptical; something that contrasted with the wide grin on his face.

Rosalyn smiled sweetly at Loras, "See? Even your comrades don't support you in this regard."

"I am their commander," he stated; puffing out his chest importantly, "They ought to be more respectful."

Bryce chuckled at this; clearly working hard to keep it to that and not an outright laugh.

"Yes commander, we are most apologetic, we shall never agree with the truth again," Brienne's deadpan sarcastic tone made Rosalyn splutter with laughter; Medea at least managed to retrain herself to a smile.

But then the guilt settled in that she was going to be leaving her sister soon, she looked up at Brienne, "Umm... Medea and I are leaving tomorrow."

"What?" Bryce demanded sharply; sending a glance at his sister, "Since when?"

"Catelyn Stark is taking us as wards," Medea explained; making Brienne gape a little.

"It was decided just now, we came to see you two straight after," Rosalyn put in quickly; hoping to ease the elder sibling worry the two were feeling.

"Is there a reason for this?" Bryce questioned.

"It will mean peace between us and the Starks," Medea replied calmly.

"Surely there should have been more warning!" Brienne protested, "Tomorrow morning? It's far too soon."

"We're at war sister," Rosalyn reminded in dry tones, "Warning isn't a big issue."

"She's right," Medea agreed, "We could have even been leaving today."

"Good thing you're not!" Brienne exclaimed.

Rosalyn simply had to laugh at the mild panic on her sister's face, "We would've said goodbye!"

"Of course you would've!" Bryce said; ruffling up his sister's hair.

"Hey!" Medea protested; swatting away her brother's hands.

Brienne grinned at Rosalyn, slight glint of mischief in her eyes, Rosalyn watched her sister wearily, "Don't even think about it."

Medea scowled at her brother as she put her hair back to rights, "Don't touch the hair."

"Someone's vain," Bryce teased with a smirk.

"Have you tried getting hair into a style like this and keeping it?" Rosalyn questioned, "Go on, grow your hair and I DARE you to try it."

Loras grinned and gestured at Rosalyn, "It's like a blonde nest anyway."

"Don't make me hurt you Tyrell," she threatened with a glare; ever the supporting sister, Brienne merely laughed.

"I doubt you could," Loras said confidently; smug smile in place on his handsome face.

She narrowed her eyes, "Don't test that."

Bryce shook his head despairingly and laughed, "Do you two ever knock it off?"

"I don't think so..." Brienne said.

"It's his fault!" Rosalyn defended; truly, he started it, or at least started aggravating her first.

"How old are you two again?" Medea inquired; laughing.

"Oh shut up," Rosalyn muttered, "You are only a year older!"

Loras took the chance when she had turned from him to Medea, to sneak closer and ruffle her hair.

She turned on him with a scowl; slapping his hands away angrily, "What did I say about the hair?"

He merely chuckled and winked, ignoring as always the glowing looks she sent his way, as everyone laughed with him.


	3. House Stark

Chapter 3: House Stark

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Again, a huge thanks to all of our reviewers! Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

><p><strong>Medea's POV – Bitterbridge <strong>

It was still hard to believe that she would be leaving the camp today, Medea ruminated as she attached her saddlebags to her horse. She thought it would be the first time in a while that she would be parted from her brother, and certainly for the longest time. She supposed that she should be grateful that at least she would be accompanied by Rosalyn, which was better than having to go alone.

Medea raked a hand through her dark hair, pondering what the north would be like. Lady Stark was a good woman from what she had seen, and hopefully her son Robb was the same. At first, Medea hadn't fit in at Renly's camp either, but she had grown accustomed to the friendly atmosphere. She hoped that the same could eventually be said of the Stark camp.

"So this is it, then." Rosalyn led her own horse over, and Medea inspected her carefully, trying to read her expression. They were both in the same situation, and had grown quite close over the time they had spent together at Renly's camp, so Medea thought that they would be sticking together around the Stark camp as well. She was very much aware that 'ward' was just a fancy way of saying she was a hostage for Renly's – and her brother's – good behaviour.

"I think this is the first time you've been off all by yourself," Bryce noted as he watched his sister fussing about with her saddlebags.

"Not for me!" Rosalyn piped up, earning a rather concerned glance from her older sister, who like Bryce, didn't seem entirely comfortable with the notion of her younger sister going off to the Stark camp.

"Still…" Brienne murmured, before raising her voice, "You sure you'll be okay?"

"Girls, how are things going?" Renly walked across, all golden crown and bravado. As their liege, it was his duty to see them off – but he had also found himself growing rather fond of the sisters of two important members of his Rainbow Guard.

"Well thank you, your grace," Medea replied politely, turning to glance at him.

"Actually, sister," Bryce called, fishing around for something in his pocket. "I have something to give you."

"Hey!" Rosalyn exclaimed as Brienne secured her saddlebags. "It's fine, I can do it." She finished up and glanced around Bitterbridge. The colourful feasts, the jovial conversation…there probably wouldn't be a lot of it up north. "Hmm. I think I'll miss it here."

"This belonged to Mother." Bryce drew out a silver necklace and walked over to his sister. "Here, turn around."

"It's beautiful!" Medea couldn't help but smile as her brother fastened the pendant around her neck. It wasn't often that Bryce offered her gifts, so she knew that he was really going to miss her when she ventured north. She tried to ignore the pang in her own heart that she felt about leaving him.

"Wow," Rosalyn nudged Brienne in the ribs as she watched the Caron siblings, "Hey, do I get something like that?"

Brienne cleared her throat. "Actually…"

"I was joking!" Rosalyn exclaimed with a grin as Renly laughed. "Seven hells, just kidding!"

Catelyn Stark walked across, accompanied by the rest of her entourage. She had assured Renly – and any concerned siblings – that Medea and Rosalyn would be very safe during their journey north.

"Are you nearly ready, ladies?"

"Just saying our goodbyes, Lady Stark," Medea called across to her, as Loras sauntered over. This was not well-received by Rosalyn, who audibly groaned at the sight of Loras – although Medea knew she was not exactly averse to his presence really.

"Oh gods, it's you."

Loras tipped her a wink. "Now is that really such a bad thing?"

"You have no idea…" Rosalyn grumbled.

Brienne coughed to attract her sister's attention. "Sister, I have something for you."

Medea threw her arms around her brother's neck, hugging him tightly. "I'm going to miss you."

Bryce chuckled. "Behave yourself, sister."

Brienne pulled out a gold bracelet with some blue stones. Medea marvelled that it would go very nicely with Rosalyn's blonde hair and blue eyes – although really, anything looked nice on Rosalyn Tarth now she thought about it.

"It wasn't Mother's or anything, but I thought you'd like it."

Rosalyn gasped delightedly and slipped it on her wrist, before hugging her older sister. "Thank you so much!"

"Nice bracelet," Loras observed, examining it, "It's very pretty."

Rosalyn rolled her eyes. "You compliment too much for me to take you seriously."

Loras took her wrist and kissed her hand. "You flatter me."

"Oh please…" Medea groaned, feigning disgust, although secretly she thought the show of affection was quite sweet. Rosalyn jerked her hand away, her cheeks started to flush red a little.

"It wasn't a compliment!"

"Loras, your charms aren't getting you anywhere with Rosalyn," Renly pointed out.

"Perhaps I should change my tactic…" Loras grinned and raised his eyebrows at Medea, who looked less than impressed. Bryce was also very quick to notice Loras's cheeky flirtations and did not want them directed at his little sister.

"Nails. Tree. Manhood."

Rosalyn sighed wistfully. "I wish Brienne threatened you more…"

"My apologies for the interruption," Catelyn spoke up, "But we really should be departing soon. Lord Renly, thank you for your hospitality."

Renly inclined his head. "It has been my pleasure. You are always welcome, Lady Stark."

Medea turned and hugged Bryce tightly, knowing that their impending departure had arrived at last. "I'm going to miss you."

Bryce laughed and ruffled her hair. "Like I said, behave for Lady Stark."

"Thank you for everything, your grace." Rosalyn curtsied to Renly before she turned to Brienne. She tried to keep her expression blank, but then couldn't keep her emotions in check and threw her arms around her sister tightly. "Well, goodbye again. I'll miss you."

"Me too." Brienne hugged her back. "I'll see you soon, little sister."

"Thank you for putting up with us, your grace," Medea smiled.

"Please! It was my pleasure." Renly went quite against etiquette and gave each of them a brief hug. "Take care."

"Make sure Bryce behaves himself, Brienne," Medea tossed casually, trying to maintain a brave façade. "Loras, too."

"Hey!" Bryce exclaimed indignantly.

"We always behave!" Loras chimed in.

"Not around me you don't," Rosalyn muttered, causing her sister to laugh.

Medea climbed onto her horse, feeling a sense of loss. Bryce was the only family she had left, and despite the fact that their relationship could be strained at times, she still loved him. Now she was leaving him. It might not be for forever, but it certainly felt like it.

"I'll write often."

"Take care, sister," Rosalyn called to Brienne as she mounted as well, before the Stark entourage started off.

"And you," Brienne replied as Bryce waved to his sister.

"Farewell, ladies!" Renly called.

Rosalyn smiled and waved back to the ones she was leaving behind. "Bye!"

* * *

><p><strong>Genna's POV – Stark Camp<strong>

Genna let out a sigh as she continued to walk through the forest. She was collecting herbs to make more medical remedies. She knew with the upcoming wars that they would need them. Jon had followed her and was looking around for her, noticing her as she bent down to pick some herbs. He carefully approached her so he didn't startle her.

"Hello, Genna."

"Hello, Jon." Genna greeted, turning to face him with a smile.

"Lady Stark should be returning soon." Jon informed her, watching as she sorted through her herbs that she had collected.

"It would be nice to finally meet her." Genna told him.

She had heard much about Lady Stark and was eager to meet her. She felt saddened that she would never be able to meet Robb and Jon's father, from what she had heard Lord Stark had been a noble man caught up in a war he didn't wish to be a part of.

"There is word she is bringing two young ladies with her of your own age." Jon stated, watching and following her as she continued through the forest.

Genna nodded as she leant down to pick more herbs. "It would be nice to have someone my age around here, that was female."

Jon smiled as he watched her. "Hopefully you'd get along with them. What are the herbs for?"

"Medicine." Genna answered him.

Jon nodded and continued to watch her, more carefully this time. Genna ran a hand through her hair, collecting her picked herbs, before standing up and turning to face him, a smile on her face.

"Does it feel strange to be here?" He inquired as they began to walk back to the camp.

"Yes. It's warm." Genna admitted, she was used to colder conditions.

Jon couldn't help but grin. "Do you like it?"

"Yes." She nodded with a smile.

"Do you miss your family?" He asked her.

"Very much so." She admitted, a tinge of sadness in her voice.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Jon apologized solemnly.

Genna nodded, a sad smile on her face. "It wasn't your fault."

"I suppose so. But I don't like that you had to lose them. It wasn't right." Jon told her as they stopped just outside of the camp.

"There are a lot of things in this world that aren't right." Genna told him.

Jon nodded, taking in her words. "You are wise."

She couldn't help but smile. "Thank you."

"Lady Stark is a good woman. I think you will like her." Jon told her as they walked into the camp.

"I'm sure I will." Genna agreed with a small smile.

* * *

><p><strong>Rosalyn's POV – somewhere near Riverrun<strong>

They had been riding for some time now, and Rosalyn could happily say that both she and her rear would be happy when they finally made it to the camp. It wasn't that the journey had been at al boring, it had just been many long days spent sitting on horseback. Rosalyn loved riding, but, coming from Tarth she hadn't exactly had much opportunity to do so properly before. And it was certainly catching up to her, but she hoped that within another few weeks she might be able to achieve the naturalness that Medea and Lady Stark seemed to be at with horse riding.

But soreness aside, the days had certainly been interesting. She and Medea chatted often about many things, the war, leaving, missing their siblings, and of course, men. Lady Stark left them to themselves sometimes, but there were times when she would join in their conversations, offering a mother's advice. Something that both Rosalyn and Medea had lacked in their lives. It was strange how easily Rosalyn felt she slipped into having a mother figure like Lady Stark in her life. Medea seemed to enjoy it too, it was something new for them, and they treasured it. Not that Lady Stark was over stepping the bounds that their relationship was, they were wards, but also hostages of a form. But Rosalyn was grateful for the woman's advice and input.

They reined in on the crest of a hill looking down at the sprawling expanse that was Robb Stark's camp, it was bigger than Rosalyn had thought. Despite reports of the Young Wolf's numbers, she'd somehow always remained skeptical and doubted the truth, a poorly based assumption made from her little knowledge of the North. Clearly she had been wrong though, it was a sizeable force indeed, white banners bearing the grey Direwolf of House Stark rippled in the wind. They would be in the camp for a while, until such time as they could go on to Winterfell, and somehow that prospect daunted her a little more than being in King Renly's camp.

Lady Stark turned to face Rosalyn and Medea, "The thing you have to be aware of, girls, is that the population of the camp is composed almost entirely of men. So until we return to Winterfell, you'd best be on your guard."

"So what population _is_ women? Rosalyn inquired a little nervously.

"There is myself, you two and another wildling girl named Genna. A few cooks, but that's about it, I'm afraid," Lady Stark replied; a very short list indeed.

Medea nodded her head, glancing around with interest as they rode down into the camp. On the surface she seemed to be a lot calmer than Rosalyn felt. Maybe that's because she'd had an older brother, but that was her mind jumping to an generalization that just because she'd grown up mostly surrounded by men she'd be more fine with the idea. That was silly of course, Medea would have had as many ladies around her as Rosalyn, the only difference was in their siblings.

Rosalyn herself was glancing around a little more nervously, "So less than ten of us, verses... how many men?"

"It's alright, dear," Catelyn smiled and put a hand comfortingly on Rosalyn's shoulder, "None of them will harm you."

Two people walked over to them, well, the young man swaggered in a manner that made Rosalyn instantly see he would be cocky. Dark hair and a lean, handsome face, his grey eyes glinting with amusement as he eyed the newcomers. He bowed before Lady Stark though, but flashed grins at Rosalyn and Medea. Rosalyn was at a loss as to who he was for some time, before noting the kraken accenting his clothing, making him out as Theon Greyjoy; heir to the Iron Isles, and also a ward of House Stark. The other person was a young woman, perhaps more of an age with Medea than Rosalyn, dark hair and strong eyes characterized her features, but her face was a little weary. Judging from her manner, and way or holding herself, Rosalyn could see she was no lady. That must make her the wildling, Medea was watching the pair suspiciously.

Rosalyn dropped a polite curtsy for the Ironborn ward, but smiled genuinely at Genna, "Hello, you're Genna right?"

"Yes," the other girl replied, "And you are?"

"Rosalyn Tarth, of Evenfall Hall," she introduced herself, "Lady Stark said you were a wildling?"

"I was," Genna replied shortly.

"Was?" Medea repeated, "So you WERE a wildling but you're not now?"

"What's it like beyond the Wall?" Rosalyn found herself asking impulsively.

"Cold," was the only reply Genna gave.

Rosalyn laughed, "I've never been this far North before, but I know that it's hardly any distance compared with how far you've travelled."

Medea continued to watch the proceedings with a little suspicion, maintaining a silence for now. Another tall young man walked over, his colouring and clothes marking him to be the famous Robb Stark; King in the North. He certainly cut an impressive figure, and a handsome one as rumors told, giving his mother a hug and bowing before the ladies.

"How are our guests fairing, mother?" he inquired.

Another man strolled over, good gods, were they going to meet everyone now? This one was of a height with Robb, but darker colouring, holding more to what Rosalyn understood to be traditional Stark appearance, "And who might our guests be?"

"They are well. This is Medea Caron, and this is Rosalyn Tarth," Catelyn introduced; indication who was who respectively, "Both are sisters of Rainbow Guard members. Renly agreed to let them be fostered in return for peace...for now. Girls, this is my son, Robb Stark, and Jon Snow."

Rosalyn couldn't help the slightly critical glance she gave Jon, recognizing the bastard name of the North, "Hello."

He gave no sign of being put out by her glance, inclining his head, "A pleasure to meet you both, I trust you had a good journey?"

"It was fine," she said; rather un-descriptively, but Medea took that out of her hands.

"Uneventful compared to the south," Medea replied, "But a fine journey nonetheless."

Theon laughed, the first sound he'd uttered, "Isn't this one a sulky piece?"

"Maybe you just bring it out in her Greyjoy," Jon Snow shot back; Rosalyn instantly picked up that their relationship would be an insulting one.

"It isn't sulkiness I bring out in women..." Theon murmured suggestively/

"Theon, enough," Catelyn chastised.

"Theon, don't you have somewhere else to be?" Robb inquired.

Jon groaned, "Ladies, just ignore the squid."

Rosalyn was a little at loss as to what to say, Genna merely ran her hands through her hair.

"He seems to think his womanizing ways are far more effective than they really are..." Medea noted.

Genna muttered something as Theon glared at Medea, and Rosalyn was reminded a little of Loras.

"So it would seem..." she agreed.

"I like her," Jon chuckled; making Theon huff.

"Perhaps you boys would be best to show Medea and Rosalyn around the camp." Lady Stark phrased the request so that it was a statement, "Make yourselves useful that way."

Jon turned to them, "Would you like the guided tour?"

"Is the squid coming?" Medea asked.

Rosalyn laughed and murmured contemplatively, "Squid…"

"I am not a squid!" Theon protested.

"Yes, you are," Genna retorted.

"Jon, I'm sure you can manage them," Robb said.

Jon nodded, "Have you got Kingly things to get done brother?"

"Yes," Robb replied with a slight sigh, "Theon can help."

"So the squid's coming with us?" Rosalyn clarified.

Jon whacked the back of Theon's head with the elder boy groaned, "Now now Greyjoy, be nice when in front of the ladies." He gave them an apologetic look on the ward's behalf, "Sorry, we only let him out on special occasions"

Medea and Rosalyn both laughed at this, and Theon's indignant expression.

"Ow!" Theon complained; rubbing the back of his head, "Mind your tongue, Snow. You didn't even get to come INSIDE when we had the royal visitors."

"I wish they wouldn't let you outside at all, Greyjoy," Genna muttered; then shook her head, "I'm going to go collect some herbs." The once wildling girl walked off.

Jon scowled; though Rosalyn thought she saw a flash of hurt, "And you wonder why you only get attention from-"

"So that tour?" she intervened quickly.

"I think the tour sounds wonderful right about now," Medea agreed.

"Fine," Theon said, "Come along, then."

Jon offered Medea is arm politely, "Would you care to accompany me on the tour? He shot Theon a look and shook his head despairingly as Medea smiled and took his arm, "Really Greyjoy, manners."

Theon glanced at Rosalyn as they began walking through the camp, "Is your sister not the really homely one?"

She shot a burning blue glare at him for a moment, but then put in a falsely sweet smile, "Perhaps, I don't think so myself, but others have said it truth be told. However I do know for certain that she is the one who could kill you in a duel with one hand tied behind her back"

Theon looked a little taken aback, and more than a little dubious, but Jon spoke before he could open his mouth again.

"So Lady Medea, what do you think of your camp mates so far?

"I find that Rosalyn is easy to get along with," Medea replied, "But I am not sure about Robb and Genna, and I certainly don't like the squid."

Jon nodded in understanding, "They're fine once you get to know them. Robb's just busy a lot with the war and being King, but Genna's good fun.

"It must be a lot of responsibility for one so young," Medea noted.

"It is, but war makes us all older," Jon replied.

The rest of the tour continued mainly in silence.


End file.
